Rules of War
by LeFire
Summary: A story of a PLA attack on Japanese beaches loosely based on CNC Generals


Rules of War  
  
  
"Sergeant Chen!"  
  
Twenty-eight year old platoon sergeant Chen Wen Chai grabbed hold of the railing as he worked his way forward among the packed soldiers standing shoulder to shoulder in the top-open landing craft. The steel was wet and slippery, slick both with seawater and rain that had left the entire platoon soaked to the skin. Passing the drenched men on his way forward, the platoon sergeant made it a point to pat each one on the shoulder and give nods to each man who met his gaze. Most the young PLA soldiers inside the landing craft were scared, Chen knew. Hell, even Chen himself was not feeling his usual self. These troops were green, freshly trained from the training camps back in the mainland. Still, the platoon sergeant could tell from the looks in their faces and tenseness of their shoulders that they were confident in their abilities as soldiers of the PLA, something that he knew would make a telling difference when they hit the beach at Kyushu, Japan--the first PLA troops to hit Japanese soil on the first day of Chinese involvement in the war. Striking the Japanese and their American allies by surprise in the bad weather was a risky move, but one that was worth its weight in gold if surprise was achieved.  
  
Sergeant Chen's platoon leader--Lieutenant Lin--was standing among the men at the head of the landing craft, a young patriot who constantly reminded his sergeants that it was important for People's Republic of China Army leaders to lead from the front. That was fine in practice, but Chen knew that there was a fine line between bravery and folly in combat… a line that you could only cross once. Lin just didn't seem to be concerned about such details, a bad trait for a platoon leader.  
  
Sergeant Chen didn't exactly like the lieutenant. But then, he was a whole lot better than Lieutenant Soh, the propaganda-spouting bastard that led 2nd platoon, or Lieutenant Wang, the timid officer that was in charge of the 3rd, never mind that Lin was a bit too imperious at times for the older soldier's liking. Chen moved up to the officer's side, ducking his head to avoid getting a faceful of sea-spray as the landing craft smashed into another ocean comber. Sergeant Chen wished that the captain was in his boat, but Captain Tay was riding together with the weapons and headquarters platoon in another landing craft.  
  
"Sergeant, the MiG's will be coming in any time now. I want you to pass the word back among the men to hold their fire. Tell them that I WILL personally charge anyone shooting at them when this is over. The pilots already have their hands full doing close-air-support in this kind of weather. Is that clear, Sergeant?" Lin was face-down as well, seawater forming a dripping curtain from the brim of his helmet as he glanced at his waterproof watch. He did not attempt to hold eye contact when speaking to the NCO, something that annoyed Chen greatly.  
  
"Yes sir. Any idea when the first wave is going to hit the beach?" Sergeant Chen asked.  
  
"In five minutes time. The MiG's will go in hot and low to avoid radar and hit the fortifications with both radar-guided and dumb bombs. No clusters or napalm. A damned pity… Anyway, I gave you a job Sergeant, go do it and quit asking questions. Get back up here when you are done." Lin dismissed his platoon sergeant with a curt wave, leaning out forward onto the bow of the landing craft to pan across the barely visible boats of the first wave with his binoculars.  
  
Lin wished that he had been assigned to the first rank of landing craft to hit the Japanese shores instead of being left in the second wave. The platoon officers of 1st Company were going to be among the first men to set foot on the sand with the lead companies of the 20th Infantry Division striking the beach left and right of them. Lin was a 2nd Company platoon officer and thus assigned to the second wave... and he didn't like that at all.  
  
Sergeant Chen bit back a sharp retort. Lin was an officer, and Chen a mere non-com. He was experienced enough to not risk getting charged for insubordination. The sergeant thanked the gods that wiser heads had prevailed in the Air Force upon hearing that no napalm would be used. He had no doubts about his bravery, but Chen had nightmare visions of the platoon having to attack through waters covered with flaming petroleum jelly from napalm canisters blown astray by the winds. Chen moved back along the ranks of the men, leaning forward and touching helmets with the squad sergeants to pass on the lieutenant's instructions, ensuring that he had received affirmative answers and nods before moving to the next squad leader.  
  
He reached the rear of the craft and was about to turn back when the first MiG's tore though the heavy skies above the speeding landing craft, their passage buffeting the men in the boats as they sailed overhead, wings and hardpoints pregnant with bombs. Some of the men cheered, but most preferred to clamp their hands over their ears, the sounds of jet engines only a hundred meters overhead stabbing at their eardrums. Sergeant Chen could hear occasional cracks of riflefire from other landing craft as surprised men fired at the PLA jets, only to be chewed out by their officers and NCO's. The sergeant was mildly surprised by the foresight in the young officer... at least Lieutenant Lin had judged correctly the high risk of blue-on-blue among the conscript ranks of the Chinese troops.  
  
The thundering drumrolls of the bomb detonations were heard moments later, powerful deep bass thumps and rumbles of heavy conventional "dumb" bombs as opposed to the crackle-pop of cluster munitions and the "whoosh" of napalm. The Party indoctrinated every soldier to hate the imperialist Yanks and their Japanese puppets. Still, Chen was a professional soldier and felt a measure of pity for his foe. It just didn't seem fair to be blown to smithereens when sleeping peacefully in a warm cozy bed on Christmas Eve. All the training didn't matter then... it was a blameless consequence of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Looking up at the first wave of MiG's high-tailing back to the Chinese mainland overhead, he wondered if the pilots felt anything for the men that they had just annihilated.  
  
Then he forced any thoughts of compunction away... Every single Japanese or American who survived the bombing would still pose a lethal threat to him and his soldiers. And rather than seeing any of his men killed or wounded, he, Platoon Sergeant Chen, would rather that they be the ones who went to their God instead. That was most basic maxim among the rules of war. A universal understanding among soldiers that the civilians back home rarely understood.  
  
Kill… or be killed.  
  
The second wave of MiG's thundered past on their way to the battered shoreline. This time, the second wave did not enjoy the easy run given to the first--defenders on the receiving end had somehow managed to get their SAM systems online. Chen saw the bright snaking streaks of the first outbound missiles, their wakes brilliant against the dawn sky as they cut through the rain towards their targets. Several of the Sukhoi and MiG fighter-bombers above turned hard to evade, the hapless infantrymen below it cringing with thundering scream of jet engines, the downdrafts powerful and the planes low enough to raise water wakes beneath the evading planes. Bright white trails cut overhead as Chen's ears were assaulted by a sudden wave of noise--One of the SAM's had scored. The PLA infantry saw the flaming MiG for only a split-second before it struck the water surface between the first and second landing craft ranks. It's explosion was spectacular, a few tons of high explosives mounted on the plane hardpoints detonating on impact. The landing craft shook, debris and water raining down as infantrymen tried to make themselves smaller under their steel helmets. Chen held his breath as his boat passed the pool of flames and crumpled metal... the aircraft didn't even look like a plane anymore. An unfired aircraft cannon shell clattered down onto the deck by his feet, one of the pieces of the downed fighter that had been scattered over the assault wave by the explosion. The sergeant tossed it overboard... the shell still warm from the fighter's explosion.  
  
"Sergeant Chen! Get up here!"  
  
The NCO hurried to the front of the landing craft, finding it hard to keep his balance in the chop. The troops had been given sea-sickness pills, but Chen had seen more than a few lumps of vomit sliding back and forth on the deck of the flooded boat as he moved forward. They drifted like strands of sickly yellow algae, clinging lovingly to boots and pant legs. The standing men found it surprisingly easy to ignore the filth. They were going to face death in minutes, and getting dirtied with vomit was suddenly regarded as the least of their concerns.  
  
Lieutenant Lin was leaning forward on the raised ramp, a radio handset clutched to his ear, the platoon radioman standing beside him carrying the manpack radio. He glanced back to see Sergeant Chen, squinting further back and around to ensure that the coxswain was keeping his boat in formation. The PLA navy had fired a spread of smoke rockets to cover the landing, the grey smoke mingling with the greasy black of fires curling from burning shoreline defences. Leaning over to Chen while glancing forwards occasionally at the smog that had rolled over the first assault wave, the lieutenant started speaking, again addressing the NCO by rank rather than first-name.  
  
"Sergeant Chen, the first wave is about the hit the beach. Get the men ready... Our wave hits the sand in two minutes and I'm not waiting for anyone who doesn't catch up!"  
  
Chen leaned back and caught the eyes of his squad leaders, holding up two fingers to indicate the number of minutes left until landing. The squad leaders turned to their men, passing on the message in the universal military tradition of "echoing"... the passing of commands by word of mouth or hand signals down the line. The coxswain and his assistant began to pay more attention to station keeping, ensuring that the assault wave struck the beach at about the same time to ensure that enemy fire did not concentrate on any lead boats. Chen raised his AKM assault rifle and waved a magazine at his men before snapping it into the weapon and racking back the bolt. Beside him, the lieutenant did the same for his rifle.  
  
"Load your magazines and chamber a round! But leave the safties on!" The platoon sergeant called as he reached over the weapon to ensure that the safety lever was in its proper 'safe' position, watching the men follow his actions and safety procedures. Chen cursed that one nagging aspect of the AKM's design--the safety was on the wrong side of the weapon for a right-hander and could not be released as easily as the thumb-safeties on American-designed M-16 rifles. The new Chinese-made Norinco weapons had not reached the 20th Infantry Division--Chen was handling a weapon that was first fielded half a century ago. Still, another rule of war held true: The cheapest, oldest weapon can kill a person as well as the most expensive and newest rifle.  
  
The first rattling bursts came tentatively from the front, immediately followed by the escalating ruckus of a growing firefight, joined by what seemed to be dozens of muffled-sounding detonations mixed with heavier deck-vibrating thuds. Both the officer and NCO leaned over the bow and studied the dim enemy beach more intensely now, occasionally seeing lazily curling streams of enemy machine-gun fire being poured into the first wave. Chen was frowning... the Japanese and Americans were fast in getting their men onto the firing line. The 1st wave sounded like they were in trouble, but nothing could be seen through the man-made fog.  
  
On the other hand, Lin was grinning, unable to contain the excitement of the first battle under his command. He turned back towards the troops and addressed them for the first time since they had left the landing ship's belly in their assault boats.  
  
"Men! Get out of the landing craft when the ramp goes down fast! This boat is going back out to pick up more troops, do NOT take cover behind it! We are assigned to the second wave, so move off the beach fast, and set up on the seawall to cover the third wave!"  
  
Chen had heard briefed the men beforehand and knew the drill, so he concentrated instead on picking out the sources of machine-gun fire through the smoke ahead of him. For a brief moment, the wind hesistated... then it began to blow in another direction.  
  
Revealing the first wave.  
  
"Tien ah!" Chen recoiled as the scene came into view. To say that the first wave had run into trouble would be a major understatement. Half-sunken and crippled landing craft dotted the waters ahead, the surface spouting and spitting from the lines of concentrated fire being spewed by beach defenders. Faint screams and exhortations filtered back to the second wave through the overwhelming noise of gunfire and explosions. Cloying black smoke curled from burning boats, vehicles and bodies, the heavy soot-laden smog drifting in thick curls that hugged the waves and engulfed the dozens of dead and living men struggling in the waters. The platoon radio was suddenly filled with a shrill panicked voice that attempted to cut through the blanket jamming. Both Lin and Chen could not hear clearly what the disembodied voice was crying, but the NCO caught sight of something in the waters ahead of the 3rd platoon's boat just as the radio's words momentarily rang clear with chilling clarity.  
  
"Mine!"  
  
Chen's warning was drowned out by the thunderclap that followed. A concussive boom that was greeted with an ungodly silence on 1st platoon's boat as they watched the landing craft containing their sister platoon leap clear of the surf in a hellish geyser of an underwater mine detonation. Men seemed to fly out of the nearly vertical boat in slow-motion... Equipment, life-jackets, weapons and helmets tumbling among them as the blast wave flung everything and everybody on board 3rd platoon's boat into the sky. The screaming of wounded survivors began only after the last of the human and material wreckage had rained down into the churning waters.  
  
So, the Japanese and Americans were better prepared for invasion than expected. Chen drew a deep breath and cupped his left hand over his groin as he turned back to the front. His men did the same upon seeing the NCO's calm reaction, attempting to draw a tiny measure of supposed protection that beat no protection at all against an invisible threat that struck in fearsome randomness. As if fate was actively working against them, the shrill whining of enemy mortar rounds announced the appearance of another means of death and disability, plumes of cold water flung high into above the floating metal boxes to wash over the scared men locked in them.  
  
They passed the first few burning hulks, the cloying smell of burnt metal and plastics mingling with the organic scents of the shore and salt water, touched with the hideously sweet scent of charred flesh. Everyone on the landing craft was silent now, each one superhumanly conscious of every rap and clatter against the steel hull of their assault craft, knowing that they would soon be out there facing the enemy with nothing to protect them save waterlogged uniforms and the blind favours of luck.  
  
The coxswain and his assistant cowered behind their armoured crew station, the small housing at the end of the landing craft designed like a boat's prow to deflect bullets and shrapnel away from the exposed men on the roofless deck. After a final position and radio check, a series of pops sounded as the crewman fired his smoke grenades to cover the advance of the platoon. He allowed ten seconds for an appreciable screen to form before giving the thumbs-up to Lieutenant Lin, who raised his officer's whistle to his lips as a hand rested on the handle that would drop the ramp. The coxswain assistant quietly readied himself on the backup ramp-drop lever hidden in the crew station, just in case the officer lost his nerve and froze on the ramp.  
  
He didn't need to bother. Lieutenant Lin drew a mighty breath before unleashing a powerful whistle as he yanked hard on his lever, the hand holding the metal immediately grabbing his rifle as he waved his men forward. The ramp dropped forwards with a mighty splash as 1st platoon threw themselves out of the boat with a rolling warcry, each man screaming with the psychological effort of throwing themselves forwards into the storm of death.  
  
Chen threw himself forward and out, shouting along with the rest of them as Lin's whistle rang clear and loud over the surrounding din. The neck-deep cold water came as a shock, a force powerful enough to paralyse the men in the water had it not been for the superhuman strength afforded by fear and terror. The water around them sprayed up high in spouts of bullet strikes, the buffeting battering their lungs as mortar shells and automatic grenade launcher rounds blew on all sides. Men ran forwards in agonising slow-motion, their faces tight, lips quivering and teeth bared in expectation of being hit by the random sleet of hot metal fragments or being drowned in unseen underwater shell-holes. The whines of bullets and shrapnel ricocheting off the metal of landing craft howled and snapped around the struggling men.  
  
Chen slugged his way forwards, abruptly very thankful for the normally-bothersome steel helmet upon his head as myriad items of debris rained down all around. The protection was only a little more than illusionary though--A loud "bonk" came from the man beside the platoon sergeant, his helmet smashing down on his nose as a spurt of metal and bone fragments erupted skywards from the top of his head, the soldier disappearing rapidly from sight. Another man beside him spun around with barely a grunt and slipped under into the pink-tinted water, struck down before he could even get onto dry land. Chen felt his shoulders and waist break clear of the water surface as he ran between two sinking landing craft, shoving his way past the floating corpses of multilated bodies and ignoring the wailing of an trapped soldier burning to death in one of the hulks.  
  
The water's edge was lost beneath the tangle of war debris, dozens of men caught exposed by machine-gun fire lying fallen in tangled heaps being tossed and rolled by the waves. There was utterly no cover on the beach save fresh craters left smoking from the bombing runs earlier, soldiers from the decimated 1st Company cringing behind the heaped bodies of the fallen or mindlessly digging at the sand with entrenching tools, rifle butts, helmets, bare hands... The sergeant tripped over bodies and tangled equipment, both often so mangled that it was impossible to tell which was which. Only the screaming distinguished the living from the dead and inanimate, bloody limbs often held up in supplication and prayer only to be blasted into broken stumps by the lashing gale of hot metal.  
  
Chen looked back to see Lieutenant Lin clawing his way forward, a cheek ripped and bleeding freely as he bodily threw fear-frozen men out of the water, brandishing his rifle and blowing continuously on his whistle, blood misting out of the small piece of metal and torn cheek in equal measure as he fought to keep his platoon moving forward. The platoon sergeant joined him, bawling at the men to move out of the water and inland where proper cover awaited. Men ran past onto the beach, hunched over and bodies cringing in anticipation of being hit. Several dropped hard onto the ground, sand exploding in massive plumes as huge American and Japanese machine-gun slugs reached out and blew entire chunks of red flesh from living men. Here an assortment of body parts flew skywards---a man blown up by a mortar in front of the platoon sergeant's eyes. There, another soldier writhed and shrilled as he clawed at an ugly chunk of smoking iron buried in his back. Elsewhere, another blood-spattered trooper knelt on the sand screaming in frustration and fear at the unfairness of it all as supersonic metal cut and tore his friends to pieces around him.  
  
"Move up, move up!" The cry echoed along the line, the men chanting the words like a forceful, prayerful mantra as they worked their way over the dead and dying towards the sound of enemy guns. Chen continued forwards, only to drop hard as an odd shuffling sound became a wail that seemed to last for all eternity. He dug his fingers into the sand, terribly conscious of his exposed back as he tensed in anticipation. "Incoming!"  
  
Blaammm! Vision disappeared, hearing became non-existent. Chen clawed his way up back to consciousness, blood drooling from his nose as the tremendous overpressure of the artillery shell withdrew. There was a vast smoking crater in front of him, scattered odd bundles of body parts strewn all over the place rapidly being covered in a layer of sand as the fine particles rained down all around the PLA troops. The platoon sergeant began to scream with more urgency at the men--the Americans were beginning to lay down 155mm artillery shells on the battered beach. Another shell landed to the left of the 1st platoon, human scraps lost in the boiling cloud of smoke, frenzied screaming and crying among the freshly wounded joining the symphony of battle.  
  
  
More men now joined the ragged procession moving up the beach as the 3rd wave slammed into the Japanese coast. This time, the landing boats not only contained infantrymen, for amongst the assault craft swam the first few PLA tanks churning towards the bloody sands. An American-built TOW-2 mssile reached out, the long strand of control wiring spooling out behind it like the threads of a insane rocket-propelled silkworm. It blew up over a PLA tank, the luckless vehicle disappearing in the detonation, rolling out of the flames with the turret burst open like an overripe fruit. The tank continued churning up the beach, crushing dead, wounded and living alike until the gears slagged from the heat and choked the drive sprockets. Another Dragon flame tank lay upon its side in the crashing surf, its fuel tanks breached by a buried mine, nearby landing craft packed full of infantrymen already awash with the blazing petroleum mix. Survivors with equipment and clothes melted into them crawled clear and begged for their surviving friends to put an end to their misery. Many did.  
  
Chen barely made it to the sea-wall, the stones of the beach boundary covered in numerous dark-green forms as soldiers huddled shoulder to shoulder, pressing themselves into the reassuringly solid rock. The platoon sergeant leapt awkwardly over scattered bodies before diving behind the stones, moments before a mortar shell crashed home behind him, sending high-velocity fragments winging over the huddled men.  
  
He immediately set to work by finding out how much the his platoon had actually made it that far. Few had--About half of the men pinned behind the sea-wall were from the scattered platoons of 1st Company. No officers and NCO's were present, most of the enlisted ranks only concerned with the immediate needs of survival. Next, the platoon sergeant concentrated on the sounds immediately ahead of his position. His damaged hearing and the surrounding din made it hard, but the rattling clatter of an American M-60 machine-gun was unmistakable. It spewed out long bursts of tracer fire, the platoon sergeant plotting its approximate position by watching the flickering lines of gunfire lacing out into the PLA's third assault wave. The occasional snaps of T95 fire and rasp of a Minimi automatic weapon were also present, indicating the presence of an infantry squad supporting the machine-gun. The platoon sergeant poked his head up and just as quickly lowered it, taking a mental snapshot of the scene.  
  
Machine-gun in a foxhole, and supporting infantry lying prone in natural cover around it fifty meters forward. The sands in front of the sea-wall consisted of finely grained particles wind-formed into dunes--bad terrain to bury mines in. Still, the defenders were not budging despite the closeness of the PLA troops... which meant that the place was mined. Chen was working the sand out of his AKM and forming up a plan when Lieutenant Lin slid into cover like a Japanese baseball player diving for the base. The platoon sergeant crawled over to the officer, twice having to roll dead men out of the way.  
  
"Sir, we have a infantry squad and medium machine-gun up ahead. Sand dunes, but I think its mined. Orders, sir?" Chen gave his report quickly, knowing that the sooner he got his men off the beach, the faster the upcoming waves would be able to hit land in one piece and set up mortars for counter-battery fire. A mortar blast and several strangled screams sounded behind him as another PLA soldier was hit by fragments.  
  
"Sir? We can use grenades to clear any buried mines, hit the enemy with RPG's, and rush the squad before they can recover. Are you hearing me, sir?"  
  
Lieutenant Lin raised his head to see the situation for himself, trying to spot the enemy positions. Chen tugged at him. "Sir, we have to move now!"  
  
The officer turned to face Chen for the first time "Don't be telling me what to do, Sergeant! I am the goddamned officer of this pla..."  
  
Lin's helmet flew off his head, the steel pot tumbling through the air as a bullet drilled the officer's head from temple to temple. The lieutenant toppled backwards, both eyes and mouth still agape in a permanent look of surprise. Sergeant Chen tried to get his breath back, the dreaded hollow-sounding "bonk" of a pierced steel helmet hit still ringing in his ears. The radioman was just as stunned, his fingers frozen on his handset and his face white and frozen with horror.  
  
Platoon Sergeant Chen Wen Chai recognised that look... the look of a man who was about to drop everything and run. And these were his men now, HIS responsibility.  
  
"You there!" The sergeant pointed at staring men. "You have grenades?" There was no response, the men looking like stunned cows.  
  
"GODDAMN it! DO you have bloody grenades!"  
  
As NCO's have known throughout history, a sergeant's enraged shout was a verbal cattle-prod good enough to jump-start any enlisted man into action. The PLA soldiers nodded furiously, their looks changing from shock to apprehension.  
  
"Good!" It was now time to play the fatherly card. "I am now taking command of this platoon and of anyone of 1st Company who wishes to join me." Chen belly-crawled over to where he could see the most number of men and yet remain under cover. "Everybody listen up."  
  
"There is an enemy machine-gun out there with an infantry squad. I want six throwers. You, you, you, you, you and you." Chen pointed out the "volunteer'ed" men, knowing that it was no time to wait for soldiers to shake themselves out of their stupor.  
  
"Listen here, this is what I want you to do..."  
  
  
Chen raised the late lieutenant's bloody whistle to his lips and blew three short powerful blasts upon hearing an American voice shouting for a reload. The six men chosen by the sergeant immediately began lobbing grenades, five apiece at different ranges along the length of sea-wall 1st platoon held. Chinese potato-masher style grenades flew onto the sand dunes and exploded, a series of secondary mine explosions flinging up a screen of dust and smoke as the last grenades went off.  
  
"CHONG AH!" Chen screamed as he clambered over the stones, jamming the whistle between his teeth as he warbled the attack call, men pouring up and over the sea wall to run into the haze of dust and smoke, their lungs straining with the battlecry of the charge as they attacked en masse, catching the M60 in the middle of a barrel change and reload.  
  
Men crumpled, shot through by riflefire as the PLA troops crossed the recently de-mined dunes to close with the Japanese. Not all the mines had been cleared... One of the men running to the left of Chen went cartwheeling into the sand with a leg detached at the knee. Two more were disemboweled by a "jumping jack" spider mine that leapt up and sprayed fragments at stomach level. Chen saw the characteristic shape of Claymore mine set up in front of the defenders and fired his entire magazine from the hip, using the erupting trail of bullet spurts to trace the line of lead over the rectangular device. It kicked over backwards and spun away, struck by several 7.62mm rounds, the device rendered useless, it's detonating wire severed by a lucky bullet.  
  
The American machine-gunners abandoned the M60 and reached for their rifles as the first PLA soldiers overran the foxhole. One pitched backwards, riddled by AKM fire. Another terrified machine-gunner jerked his M-16's trigger uselessly, having forgotten in his panic to disengage the safety. An enraged PLA private slammed his bayonet into his chest at a full sprint, breaking the steel blade in the process and knocking him backwards into the foxhole before withdrawing the broken bayonet and crushing the man's throat with his rifle butt. SAW fire dropped several men around Chen before the automatic rasp of the Minimi attracted enough Chinese return fire to shred both the gunner and the tree stump that he was sheltering behind. The remaining Japanese riflemen supporting the machine-gun position fired the last rounds in their magazines, not pausing to reload as they leapt to their feet and counter-charged the onrushing Chinese, swinging their T95's wildly like clubs.  
  
Chen ducked a swing at his head and brought his bayonet up in a powerful underhand spike that transfixed a Japanese soldier's lower jaw, skewering his tongue to the roof of his mouth before punching into his nasal cavity. Ripping the blade clear, he parried another blow aimed at his side, snapping the AKM's solid butt around to smack into the side of the enemy soldier's head, the blow crunching skull into mash. The young man fell screaming, a corporal from the decimated 1st Company finishing him off with a rifle butt slam into the base of his spine moments before another enemy trooper retaliated and tore open his kidney with a vicious swipe. Chen's return blow missed, but the soldier--an American this time--was skewered by no less than three other PLA troops as they rushed him from behind. The blonde infantryman fell to his knees, yanking a K-bar blade from his lower leg and striking backwards in his last act of defiance. His blow ripped away an assailant's groin before the other two fired finishing bursts point-blank into the back of the man's head and neck.  
  
  
Japanese and American troops of the breached defences fell back upon being pierced by other similiar PLA attacks along the line rather than stay to be surrounded and annihilated piecemeal. Sergeant Chen could see them, running men stooped low and occasionally crumpling in a ironic imitation of their opponents minutes before as PLA soldiers pursued, both sides often blundering across landmines strewn on the dunes in their haste. The platoon sergeant crawled behind a tree stump to reload, his men running past as they attacked the last few Japanese troops pulling back from the overrun machine-gun nest.  
  
There was a scream overhead, Chen catching a glimpse of an overhead shadow passing over the beach from the sea--a PLA MiG inbound on a bombing run. He had begun to get up when he heard the rising wail of a falling bomb.  
  
He froze.  
  
The shockwave threw him facedown into the dirt, the thunder in his skull slowly fading to a muffled drone as he crawled around confusedly, trying to regain his bearings and balance. Too weak to stand up, he struggled up to the splintered tree stump, the scene in front of him penetrating even his fogged mind.  
  
  
The area was devastated, utterly stripped of both vegetation and human beings. The retreating Japanese and American troops, the attacking PLA soldiers of his command... they had all disappeared into the drifting smoke and haze. The soft pitter-patter of falling sand was silent, Chen's hearing a mere shadow of its former ability as the sergeant stared slack-jawed, confounded at the instant erasure of all life within a hundred yards of the bomb.  
  
Then the first sounds came back--A soft whimper, a steadier cry. It rose both in volume and intensity, a steady crescendo of voices. Voices of three languages, three different armies of great nations, their countries locked in mortal combat. But all united in an unlikely chorus as they called for medics, mothers, sweethearts...  
  
Others lay in silent embraces, their forms merged and mingled, uniforms and insignia lost and obscured under the all-embracing brown dust of the earth.  
  
Platoon Sergeant Chen Wen Chai mouthed the words to the most unspoken rule of war, the silent maxim that was never said out loud until the final crosses were laid, the flags folded, and the bugle lowered.  
  
  
All men stand equal in the eyes of death.  
  
  
  
This story has been registered and time-stamped by the author (LeFire) at www.fanfiction.net for originality purposes. Reproduction of any part of this writing must have the permission of the author at aerodale@hotmail.com 


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